


Wavering

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2018) [13]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Joseph is a thirsty boy, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Pining, Sexual Content, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14579826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: The Deputy leads Joseph into temptation.





	Wavering

**Author's Note:**

> You playing me if you don’t see that Joseph is thirsty af for Deputy in this godforsaken game.

Joseph’s found her.  
  
Or rather, the cameras have.  
  
“Shall we bring her to you, Father?” One of his Lieutenants asks, hands folded and patient, restraining eagerness until given explicit permission to let it loose. “We can have her here within the hour.”  
  
Deputy Rook has made a place in an abandoned cabin in the southern reach of the Whitetails, one of the buildings that had been rigged with cameras for just such an occasion: Jacob had objected, argued that it took all the fun out of a hunt to be able to flip a switch and see where someone was in seconds, but he’d had his men install the cameras anyway.  
  
“Just a moment,” Joseph murmurs, watching.  
  
Rook has her pack set on the floor, and she leans back against it as she unbuttons and removes her shirt. Joseph is confused until he sees the bandages around her shoulders and stomach; the small splotches of red on her exposed skin suggest she’s been burned, and the fabric of her shirt must be irritating the healing skin. The only things under the shirt are the bandages, which look like they need to be changed, and her bra.  
  
He should look away, but he doesn’t.  
  
The Deputy keeps the shirt folded on her lap, and lies down more purposefully against the bag, shutting her eyes. She doesn’t look comfortable- every few seconds she shifts, frowns, rolls her shoulders or winces. If she were here, Joseph would pull off those old bandages and clean the damaged skin, replacing the dressings with fresh ones and offering her a little Bliss to help her sleep. He imagines his hands on her shoulders, helping her into a bed.  
  
Eventually she seems to fall asleep. Joseph watches the rise and fall of her chest, observes the smooth fabric of her bra until he becomes uncomfortable. He should look away, should turn to his men and say yes, _yes, bring her to me, I’ll summon John and have him perform her cleansing anew._  
  
But he doesn’t.  
  
“Leave her for now,” Joseph says, finally averting his eyes. “We know where she is, and have an idea where she may be going. Notify the outposts in her area to be on their guard for the time being.”  
  
Were John or Jacob or Faith here, they would question why Joseph wasn’t moving on the Deputy while he has the chance; they’d wonder why on earth he’d let her alone when she could just as easily wake up in the early hours of the morning and decide to strike at an outpost. She has proven herself to be startlingly good at picking people off until there’s none left, calling in the Resistance to reclaim the territory. _Why take the risk, Joseph? Why not get her now?_  
  
As Joseph walks out of Eden’s Gate’s base of operations at the compound, as he slowly makes his way back to his quarters, he thinks about turning around and going back and saying yes, _yes! Bring her here, bring her to me as quickly as you can, and **do not hurt her.**_ Temptation bites at him, encourages him to do just that and wait on the church steps until they bring Rook to him.  
  
Joseph reaches his room, shuts the door behind him sedately. He stands motionless for a time, stuck- then, without thinking, he grips his shirt, the bit right over his lower stomach where he’d had Jacob carve LUST into his skin. He remembers how hesitant Jacob and John had been- they and the others in Eden’s Gate had tattoos that spoke of their sins, not scars, and there was a reason for that. “There’s a greater risk of infection,” John had tittered, eyeing Jacob’s knife nervously. “You could get really, really sick, Joseph. What if Jacob’s hand slips and he cuts you too deep?”  
  
Jacob had glanced at their younger brother out of the corner of his eye, expression unreadable, and said, “I know exactly how deep I need to cut a man to scar him or kill him, John, don’t you worry.”  
  
John had been quiet after that.  
  
Now, Joseph unbuttons his vest, pulls his shirt loose and throws it to his bed. His fingers trace the scar and he remembers the pain, tries to summon the discomfort of it to him now to put him off the urges that have come to him again. But try as he might to control himself, try as he might to clear his mind and heart of distraction, he cannot forget the sight of the half-dressed Deputy on that security feed. Against his will, heat pools in his groin and his pants grow uncomfortably tight.  
  
Joseph leans his head against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. “Have mercy on me,” he whispers, and doesn’t know if he’s supplicating God, or the young woman in a cabin mile away from him right now. “I am weak. I am _weak._ ”  
  
The admission of weakness opens the floodgates, and now Joseph can’t stop himself.  
  
He imagines the Deputy on his bed, imagines re-dressing her wounds the way he had before; but now he thinks of after, thinks of sitting beside her and leaning in close, feeling the heat of her body and brushing his fingers over the undamaged skin that’s still exposed to him. Joseph imagines pressing his face into her neck, kissing her there, and squeezing her hand in his own.  
  
“Beautiful,” Joseph whispers hoarsely in the silence of his room, opening the fly of his jeans. “So beautiful.”  
  
While he admires the swell of her breasts, while he thinks of the curves of her body under his hands, more than anything else Joseph craves the closeness of her, the idea that the Deputy would permit him the proximity. He thinks of her hair loose, fanned out over the pillow, and imagines twisting his fingers in it; he imagines his lips ghosting over her cheek, her chin, her forehead, and permits himself the pleasure of imagining her reciprocating.  
  
Joseph doesn’t touch himself yet, because he doesn’t need to. He rolls his hips likes he has her with him, and his arousal increases all the same.  
  
This is why he could never have given his men permission to bring her here. It would have been torture to have her so close, would have pushed Joseph to the edge of his restraint. Better that Jacob, John or Faith should catch her and keep her, so that Joseph cannot be left completely alone with her. If he were to be alone with her, he might do something foolish like kiss her, or embrace her; and it’s best that that not happen until his siblings have enticed her to walk the path.  
  
For now, he sees her body in his mind’s eye, sees his hands wandering up and down her flank, sees the pleasure in her eyes as he strokes her. He is heady with yearning at the possibility that this could one day be a reality, that she may look at him with love and affection.  
  
“Please,” Joseph whispers, eyes rolling shut as he finally takes himself into hand. “Please, let her come to me. Let her accept my embrace, and Your mercy. Please-” His voice cracks as he bucks forward into his hand. “Please, lead her to me. Please. I would have her beside me if You would allow it.” He begs God even as he sins, even as he lusts for someone who does not return his affections, even as he allows himself to give into the pleasures of the flesh.  
  
When he comes, it’s with a shudder and an overwhelming sense of shame.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Joseph whispers, curling in on himself, fingers curling into the comforter. “I will be stronger. I will lead by example. I will not allow myself to fall into hypocrisy again.”  
  
He will pray for her, for Deputy Rook to come to the light. To come to _him_.  
  
_His will be done._  
  
_Amen._  
  
-End


End file.
